A Christmas Miracle
by msdowartyheps
Summary: Mr. Sarneme doesn't want any of his employees around for Christmas. What will that mean for Christine?
1. Chapter 1

"He said _what_?"

"Shhh! Be quiet, Chris! Mama hasn't told anyone yet and if she hears us God knows what she will do. But that's it. He doesn't want anybody here for the festivities. I believe his exact words were 'go home to your families'."

_Oh_. Now she understood why Meg was so excited.

Their boss was a wealthy man, very strict and demanding too. He had only a few employees, and since they were expected to attend his wishes at pretty much any given hour - except, of course, during resting hours and when they took a day off - they all lived in the mansion, and were paid handsomely to spend even their holidays there. No one ever saw him, except for Madame Giry, Meg's mother, but they all thought him a good man.

Mr. Sarneme seemed to have a preference for lonely or abandoned people. People who had nowhere to go, people no one would miss. People who were running. People whose family was far away. That certainly made things easier when you needed employees available full time.

Madame Giry herself was a good example. She had become a widow shortly after moving with her husband to America. She didn't have enough money to afford the trip back, and once in Paris her and Meg would have to stay at their family's house for some time at least. Having known Erik for years, she got the job as governess and never looked back.

There was the girl who had been kicked out of her religious parents' home because of an unwanted pregnancy, and the man who had served jail time and was later found innocent, but still couldn't get a job.

People always thought their boss's methods were curious at the very least. They failed to understand that, by giving these people a job and a home, he had given them a family of sorts as well.

Seeking to escape from the house in which she had lived with her father and the memories that haunted the place, Christine had accepted the job offer without even blinking. She could have taken other positions that suited her Music degree better, but at the end of the day she would still be alone in a house full of happy memories.

With that in mind, she moved to the mansion. She didn't have to buy groceries nor pay for health insurance - Mr. Sarneme did, for all of them -, so her income paid for her father's hospital bills and kept her former home in proper conditions in case she ever gathered the courage to go back there.

It appeared that, after three years, Christine would have no choice. She had nowhere else to be and the orders they received had been crystal clear: her boss didn't want to be bothered on Christmas. That Christine could understand, but how was she supposed to go back to the place where she had been so happy when the reason for her happiness was long gone?

Maybe Meg and Madame Giry would let her tag along.

"And have you guys thought about how you're spending these days?"

"Well, Mama hasn't said anything yet, it was all very sudden, but I know she's been wanting to go see Papa's family in Paris for years and this is the perfect opportunity!"

_Shit_. Christine didn't have enough time to get a visa. Why didn't she go through with her Swedish citizenship requirement? Heck, she wasn't even sure her passport was still valid!

"Have you spoken to Raoul lately?", Meg tried, sensing her friend's distress.

"No, I... He joined the Marines shortly after Papa died, remember, and we've texted a few times but that's all. Last I heard of him he was like, in Africa or something. But he had no plans of coming back anytime soon either", Christine shrugged.

"Look, I'll stay with you", Meg offered after a few moments. "We can lounge on the couch and binge watch old TV shows and have ice cream for all the meals."

"Of course you won't! Your family must miss you so bad. Also, how long has it been since your last trip to Europe? Work doesn't count!", Christine quickly added as Meg opened her mouth to point out she had traveled to Europe during her company's last spring tour.

Meg was a ballerina, a soloist at a famous dance company, currently licensed from work due to an injury. Whenever she had time off she would come over and help them at the house, mostly so she could spend the day with Christine.

The girls had been friends since childhood, art allowing them to bond quite quickly. At first, Meg wanted to be a singer, like Christine, but that was instantly forgotten when the blonde wore her pointe shoes for the first time. Christine made her attempts with dancing and was even called "a promising talent", but in singing she found her soul. She dedicated her life and her studies to her singing career, and was even allowed to perform as a special guest along with her father at a few theatres… Until it all came crashing down upon her.

There was one thing Christine could take comfort from: Gustave hadn't suffered much. His illness, though strong, took him rather quickly, which spared them both from endless nights in a hospital room.

Months later, she finished college with honors - Christine couldn't afford the luxury of loosing her scholarship, but grief, as it turns out, was an unexpected source of inspiration. Both Meg and Madame Giry had been at the graduation ceremony, but were not allowed to speak of it. That night had marked Christine's departure from music and art.

Working at Mr. Sarneme's house had granted her the financial security she needed, allowed her to escape from painful memories and gave her a small, caring family - people who knew how much it hurt to be lonely and looked after each other in every way they could.

For the last three years, these people had been her safe haven during this emotional season.

What would she do now?


	2. Chapter 2

2

"Christine, you wanted to see me?"

"Oh, uh, yes, Madame Giry, I… Yes, I did…", Christine trailed off, almost losing her nerve.

"I know you have just finished your shift, my dear, and I'm sorry, but with everyone making arrangements to leave, this household has never been busier. I have barely had time to breathe. Do you mind meeting me at my office in five minutes?"

"Of course."

Being a governess, Madame Giry's office was not exactly a conventional one - of course, it had a desk, chairs and even a small glass bowl with all sorts of candies in it. But there was also room for a small sewing machine on the far right corner, a small TV that was usually turned off, but which Christine presumed displayed images from the surveillance system, and the small cabinet stored cleaning products and other home supplies instead of business files. Piled on top of the desk were a grocery list, receipts and some bills.

"I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Christine. I just needed to make a few final arrangements with the cook before getting ready for dinner", Madame Giry walked in and sat at her desk. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Christine suddenly felt very shy.

"Madame Giry, I… I know Mr. Sarneme has made it very clear that he wants us all to leave for the holidays, and I understand that, I truly do, but… I was wondering if he could raise an exception and… Let me… Stay?", she nearly cringed.

"Christine…", the elder woman started in an earnest voice, but Christine interrupted her.

"I promise I will not bother him. He won't even notice someone else is here. If he wishes I will not leave my room at all! It's… It's better, actually, that he has someone here, just in case. What if he needs something, what if he has an emergency?"

"My dear, Mr. Sarneme is perfectly capable of handling any emergencies he might come across. It is only two weeks, after all. It does no good for a young lady to remain locked up in this castle. You need a break, everyone does."

Christine sighed. There was no point in lying - not even to herself.

"I have nowhere to go", she whispered.

Madame Giry's face softened.

"Why don't you go to one of the others employees' houses? Or maybe to a fancy hotel? I am sure there are plenty of places you would like to visit."

"I don't want to be a burden. I am not in the mood for celebrating and being surrounded with cheerful people. If I can stay here, in my room… I can pretend it's a night like any other and come out when everything is over", the girl choked out, her eyes welled with tears.

"Christine, your father did not raise you only so you could hide from your life-"

"Please, Madame Giry", Christine sobbed. "Please. I beg you. Both of you."

"Very well. I will see what I can do for you."

* * *

"No."

Mr. Sarneme was standing by a window, his back turned to Madame Giry, who was sitting on an armchair.

"Sir, please…"

"No", he turned around to face her. "My order was explicit: _no one_ stays. If I say 'no one stays' and then one person stays what authority do I have left?"

"No one will know. She has volunteered to not even leave her room if you so desire."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"It is the truth."

"Then she is insane!"

"She has nowhere to go."

"Well, I give her a very generous paycheck, it's not my fault she doesn't bother saving any of it."

"It's not about the money. She has no family and I believe this holiday season is taking its toll on her."

"These walls were not built to serve as a hiding place!"

"Oh, weren't they?", Madame Giry raised an eyebrow. Mr. Sarneme fumed at the not-so-hidden meaning behind her words.

"Who even is this girl?"

"Christine Daaé. She is the same age as Meg, they have been friends since childhood. She has brown curly hair, has been working here for about three years…"

Mr. Sarneme nodded, showing he remembered her, and approached Madame Giry.

"You said she has no family", it was more a question than a statement.

"None of her parents had siblings and her mother died shortly after giving birth. It had been the two of them, father and daughter, her whole life, until he fell ill. Her father was Gustave Daaé."

"Gustave Daaé, the violinist?". Madame Giry nodded. "I knew him. I mean, I knew _of_ him. I heard him play in some concerts. He passed…"

"...Three years ago", Madame Giry said pointedly.

_Oh_.

Mr. Sarneme huffed.

"Fine. She can stay. But no one must know and she shall not bother me, otherwise she leaves immediately, and leaves for good!"


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note: I have forgotten to mention that this is based on ALW. I bring this to your attention now because I will add a few references to the musical here and there. The first one is in this chapter; let me know if you find it! Hint: read carefully and think about the musical; the reference might not be precisely what you think it is.**_

* * *

Christine was relieved. She had honestly thought her boss would not allow her to stay at the mansion during the holidays and was beginning to feel desperate.

However, Mr. Sarneme's fame of being a good man was not unjustified, at least not among his employees, and she was granted the possibility of staying.

"His single request is that you do not bother him. I take it is not hard to obey?"

"Not at all, Madame. He won't even know I am here. Thank you so, so much."

"You know I can still stay if you change your mind", Meg offered as her friend helped her pack.

"I know, Meg, but please, no. It really is not necessary. I'll be fine. Besides, your relatives must be dying to see you."

"Even so, I don't like the idea of you being on your own…"

"It will be two days like any other for me. I promise you will find me in one piece when you get back", the girls chuckled.

After dropping them off at the airport - when Meg insisted she would be "one phone call away", even texting her friend from the boarding room to reassure it -, Christine enjoyed the silence in the now empty mansion. Well, not exactly empty, as Mr. Sarneme was there too, but at least the service area where the employees lived was unoccupied.

The brown-haired girl flopped on the bed and sighed. She would organize her makeup and clean her wardrobe, separating a few pieces for donation, and later treat herself to a face mask and some hair products for her curls.

And tomorrow, she decided, she was going to visit her papa.

* * *

Donning her favorite blue coat and her red scarf, the following morning Christine left the house, walking to the bus stop. Mr. Sarneme had some cars his employees were allowed to use, but Christine preferred to take the bus when going to the cemetery; she saw it as part of her journey.

She didn't have to wait long, for which she was glad - it had snowed a bit during the night, which caused the ground to be slippery, and the wind was biting at her face.

As she walked towards the spot where Gustave was buried, clutching a bouquet of tiny white roses, Christine thought of everything that had happened since his death. It would be her first Christmas alone, something she feared would have come much sooner but had never wanted to give much thought.

But it was good. Having time to herself was good. Terrified of being a burden to Meg, Madame Giry and the others, Christine never gave herself time to live through the pain of her loss. Everything was bottled up inside and only came out when she came to visit Gustave's grave. Their home hadn't been touched since she moved out to Mr. Sarneme's mansion and her father's room had been locked for an even longer time. She never went through his stuff; not even a single shirt was separated for charity. It all laid there, expecting the moment their owner would come and claim them back - a moment that would never happen.

She laid the flowers in front of his tombstone, wiped some of the snow on it away with her hand and sat down on the wet grass. While taking in her surroundings, the girl thought how unfitting a company for her dear father the cold copper and marble statues were. Papa had always been a welcoming figure.

Before a single word came out of her mouth, tears started flowing. Christine simply let them; there was no point in holding back. No one would know. Her only companion right now was Gustave and he would not fuss over her nor say amenities with the sole purpose that she stopped crying. Here, she could be herself.

For several minutes, Christine only had enough strength to cry. Tears, however, are said to have calming properties, or so she believed, and finally she managed to say something.

"Hello, papa."

Silence. How she missed her father's voice!

"This is my first Christmas alone and I wish I had been smarter. I wish I had been braver. I wish I didn't have to hide from people that it's been over three years and it still hurts like it was yesterday. I wish I wasn't so afraid that everything will hurt. I haven't been back home for the past three years because I don't know if I will be able to see and touch all your things. I don't know if I will be able to live only with the memory of you."

"I have a good job and even a family of sorts, but it took me four years to get that Music degree and the papers are stuck inside a drawer. Music hurts. I don't even know if I can still sing for real. I feel like it was such a waste of time, and if I didn't have the scholarship it would have been a waste of money as well…", Christine sobbed. "I feel like I disappointed you. No, I _know_ I disappointed you, but Papa, I don't know what to do. I know I can't be a coward and keep pushing things back, but I don't know how to get through them either. I have no idea where to start. But I know it's not right. I can't spend the rest of my life depending on people's kindness and generosity. If Mr. Sarneme hadn't let me stay, I would have to face everything I left behind. There would be no choice. My single wish for this Christmas, Papa, is to be strong. To be brave. And I need you to help me."


	4. Chapter 4

The visits to her father's grave were always emotionally exhausting, so for the rest of the day Christine remained in her room and ended up binge-watching movies and the most recent episodes from the silliest of her and Meg's favorite TV shows.

The next day was also slow and lazy. She had planned on going to the mall to get distracted, see the Christmas decorations and maybe buy a thing or two as self-indulgence, but the snow had intensified during the night and it was getting worse; the authorities had explicitly recommended staying indoors unless it was strictly necessary, so any ideas of leaving the house were put off.

Due to her frustrated plans, Christine stayed in bed until past lunchtime, dozing off every now and then. Once she had woken up properly, she did her laundry, washed her bathroom, took the trash out, read an entire book and cleaned a few rooms in the mansion as well. Just because she had the days off, it didn't mean she couldn't do it. It was also her house, afterall, and since the snow was stopping her from leaving the place, it was not like she had anything else to do. Besides, she knew Madame Giry and the others would appreciate the effort, as well as Mr. Sarneme, should he ever leave his room.

Did he not have any friends or family? For the past three years, Christine did not remember her boss entertaining guests at any moment. She never saw him leave the mansion, either - well, to be honest, she had never even seen him _at_ the mansion in the first place. For all she and her coworkers knew, Madame Giry could be their actual boss and the whole Mr. Sarneme thing was a farce.

Christine had to laugh at her musings. Madame Giry of all people, creating a false identity! It would most certainly be a shock: a respectable widow, supposedly immune to any sort of suspicions, involved with gangs, false names and identity thefts. She had been watching too much TV.

As she cleaned, sticking to the living, dining and TV rooms, kitchen, laundry and Madame Giry's office, she could faintly hear music coming from upstairs, so either Mr. Sarneme was an actual person and her imagination had gone wild, or Madame Giry was truly a criminal mastermind who didn't let a single detail slip. Christine decided she believed the first option.

When she was done cleaning, the floors shiny, the furniture smelling clean, the trash in the can outside and the fireplace stocked with wood, she took a nice, long shower, put on her pajamas and curled up on her bed.

She was wide awake, however, her brain not yet able to fully relax, and her stomach decided late at night was a good time to eat. Messing her sleep schedule up always came with a price.

As she walked into the kitchen, Christine saw the hallway light was on. Well, it seemed her boss did leave his room every now and then. No false identities, then. That was definitely a relief.

Reminding herself of Madame Giry's advice, she quickly and silently made her way to the cabinet. One pack of Oreos, chocolate, oh these gingerbread cookies were delicious, should she make some tea to help her sleep?, no, there was probably yoghurt in the fridge, she preferred it… Hmm, yes, and a piece of toast with some butter and a slice of ham.

While the butter sizzled on her warming toast, she opened the fridge and grabbed both the strawberry yoghurt and the apple juice. After pouring the contents to two different glasses, she contemplated the food she had gathered and couldn't help the self-deprecating giggle that escaped her lips. What a dinner.

Somehow, she managed to balance all the food in her arms and made her way towards her bedroom. Another successful day in the mission of not bothering Mr. Sarneme. Three days down, two more weeks to go.

After eating, she made her way back to the kitchen. The packages on the trash can, the plate and the glasses on the dishwasher, what was left of the gingerbread cookies back in the cabinet…

She turned around and felt like her heart stopped.

The hallway was now dark, but the living room lights were on - something she had failed to notice during her previous trip to the kitchen. But that was not all of it.

Mr. Sarneme was there. With her.

He was rather tall and thin, dressed in a black casual t-shirt and what seemed to be black jeans. His bare arms and feet gave the impression of a yellowish skin tone, which Christine attributed to the lights coming from the other room. One thing, though, was plainly visible: a white mask covering the right side of his face. His eyes - his _amber_ eyes? - were wide, almost as if he didn't expect to meet her there either.

"Mr. Sarneme!"

"You… You must be Christine", he hesitated.

"I am. I-I'm, sorry, I didn't mean to- I didn't even know you were still awake!"

"Well… It is still my house."

Christine pressed her right hand to her forehead.

"No, no, you're right, absolutely, I just… I didn't hear you coming in. You scared me, that's all."

"My apologies. I... Heard a noise."

"A noise?"

"Indeed. Humming."

_Shit._

"Oh, well, that was probably me. I didn't even realize I was… Anyway, sorry."

"It is fine. Like you said, you didn't know."

"Yes, well, uh… Do you need anything?"

Mr. Sarneme raised his eyebrows. Was he surprised? The mask and the dark made it difficult to fully read his expression.

"No. I just came in to check the noise. Your humming."

"I'm sorry again about that. Well, I shall be going, then. Good night, Mr. Sarneme."

"Good night, Christine."

She practically ran off the kitchen.


	5. Chapter 5

"How is everything going?"

The two friends were on a video call, Meg sitting near a fireplace and Christine comfortably stretched out on her bed.

"Oh, it's all good. Very relaxing but also safe. I'm taking some much needed rest and have binge-watched plenty of movies and TV shows. In other words, the vacation of my dreams."

"I bet."

"How's Paris?"

"Very cool, despite the rats. Seriously, one would've thought they got rid of them! It's the twenty-first century for God's sake!"

Christine couldn't avoid the ringing laughter that escaped her lips.

"Yeah, keep on laughing, I hope you find a huge-ass flying cockroach on your bed tonight", .Meg grumbled.

"Ew! Meg! But wait, the rats are inside the house?"

"Of course not, silly, only in the streets", Meg rolled her eyes. "We went to a restaurant near the Eiffel Tower the other night and when we were passing by the square in front of it we saw dozens of them", the blonde shuddered.

"Are you going to Palais Garnier?", Christine asked nonchalantly.

Meg gave a huge smile. Of course her friend would think of the music.

"Yes, we are, we just haven't decided whether to watch Coppelia or The Magic Flute."

"Tough choice."

"It is, right? I love them both. But maybe Mama has enough ballet in her life as it is."

Both girls giggled. Madame Giry hadn't missed a single performance ever since Meg first started dancing, even the ones in the beginning of her career, when she mostly stood in the background while other people danced.

"Whatever you choose, I know you will love it."

"Yeah, me too. But tell me more! How does it feel to have this enormous mansion all to yourself?"

"Not all of it, remember? The boss is here too and I Shall Not Bother Him. But it's amazing the same way. Peaceful. I love the hustle and bustle of having everyone around but I miss the quiet sometimes."

"Oh, yes, I had forgotten all about that. We still don't know Mystery Man then."

"Yeah, no…", Christine said in an unconvincing manner.

"Chris?"

She did not reply.

"Chris? Christine Daaé, what are you not telling me?"

"I met him", Christine blurted out.

"You WHAT?!", Meg shouted. "Christine, my god! How did that happen? You were supposed to stay away from him! Christ, he said he would fire you!"

"It was not my fault!", Christine yelled back and watched her friend calm down. "I had just had a snack and was in the kitchen, putting the things back in the cabinet, minding my own business- it was rather late already, I don't even know why I was awake. I closed the cupboard, turned around and there he was! He was lucky I didn't scream."

Meg seemed alleviated for a moment, but then frowned.

"When did this happen?"

"...Last night."

"Oh dear God we leave you alone for three days-"

"Meg, stop! I already told you this was not my fault, okay?"

"I know, I know, I just- I didn't want you to get in trouble."

"Well, neither did I. I have barely left the service area."

"And he never goes into the kitchen anyway."

"Yes. He even apologized. For scaring me."

"Oh?"

"Don't be like that, Meg, you know he is a good man, your mother has known him since forever."

"That's right, but as far as we know he never even sees people. There was no telling how he would react."

"It was weird. He seemed… Frightened?"

"Chris, most people don't expect to find anyone wandering about their kitchens during sleep hours. That's what happens in horror movies before everyone gets killed", Meg quipped.

"I don't know… This felt different."

"Nah, he simply wasn't expecting to find you there; it was late, you said it yourself. Maybe he's afraid of ghosts."

"Meg!", both girls laughed.

"Well, but let's talk about the important matters, what does he look like?"

"I didn't get a good look at his face, it was a bit dark", Christine tried to change subjects. She didn't want to risk telling Meg about the mask.

"His face is a minor detail, is he tall? Thin? Muscular?"

"He is… Yes, he is tall, taller than average even for men, and…Decidedly thin. Dark hair, most likely black. I couldn't make out the color of his eyes but it's a light color. He looks common, I think."

"Good to know, we wouldn't want you distracted from work because you're daydreaming about your boss, right?"

"Meg!", Christine reprimanded the blonde, who cackled.

* * *

Talking to Meg had lifted the girl's spirits. Just when they were about to end the call, Madame Giry walked in and held her on for another half hour, making sure she was looking after herself and staying out of trouble.

While she was certain Meg's mother would know about her late night deeds sooner or later, Christine decided to keep it to herself for the time being. Mr. Sarneme hadn't scolded her, nor had he fired her, and they hadn't met again. It had been an accident and she was determined not to repeat it.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Christine?"

Fate, on the other hand, appeared set to see her fired.

_He's the one who came looking for you. Relax. You have done nothing wrong._

Suddenly glad she was wearing a bra underneath her blouse this time, the girl ran to the door and took a deep breath before opening just enough to place herself between her boss and her room. Just because he was actively seeking her company, it didn't mean he would be glad seeing the mess she called a room.

"Yes, Mr. Sarneme? How can I help you? Do you need anything?"

"Yes. I mean, no. Sort of. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and I… If you don't have any other plans, of course, I was wondering if you would like to join me for supper?"

* * *

_**PS: the idea about the rats came from a video I saw a few weeks ago on the internet. I pray it was a one time thing but I couldn't let the joke pass.**_


	6. Chapter 6

_Okay. You're good. All is good. Deep breaths. In, two, three, four, out, two, three, four. One more. In, two, three, four, out, two, three, four._

Christine's heart was racing. What had she gotten herself into?

Sure, anything was better than spending Christmas locked up in her room eating pre-cooked meals, yet having supper with her boss was a terrifying perspective.

Christmas Eve supper was something she had heard of when she was younger, though she didn't always have it with her father. However, the staff on Mr. Sarneme's house had made a habit out of it, due to the fact many of them liked to attend midnight mass. Christine was genuinely surprised Mr. Sarneme was aware of said tradition.

Half the content of her wardrobe had been tossed on the bed and Christine was positive this would be a fancier occasion than any she had ever attended, despite being a dinner at home. Mr. Sarneme was handsomely rich; she could wear her best outfit and would probably feel underdressed.

She desperately wished to call Meg and ask for her opinion, but that would bring up a myriad of questions and insinuations, as well as provoke Madame Giry's worry, aside from the fact that Meg herself would be busy with Christmas preparations.

With a sigh, she gathered what she considered were her nicest clothes and proceeded to try them on.

* * *

The large dining room was marvellously adorned.

The table was covered with a fine white linen tablecloth, on top of which sat two crystal candlesticks, each carrying a white candle. The table was set for two: rosé gold sousplats, fancy white china with delicate painting and polished silverware - thankfully, only one fork and one knife to each person; she would be spared the shame of not being able to differentiate a salad fork from a steak one.

To the right of where she presumed Mr. Sarneme would sit, there was a transparent acrylic champagne bucket filled with ice, and inside it a beautiful bottle. She didn't dare to read the label.

Each chair was decorated with a red and gold sash tied in a bow, making a beautiful contrast to their off-white color.

On the center of the table, between the two candlesticks, there was a serving dish containing a steaming turkey. It looked delicious. There was also rice, potatoes, green beans and a salad. If she didn't know they were all alone in the mansion, Christine could have sworn the cook had given a helping hand. Did her boss do all that work himself?

The fireplace in the living room was lit and a soft music was playing. Next to the two armchairs facing the fire stood the amazing Christmas tree she remembered helping to put the ornaments and lights on. Other pieces of Christmas decoration could be spotted around the living room, giving it a holiday feeling while still being classy.

The sound of footsteps announced she was no longer alone and Christine turned around to meet her companion.

Mr. Sarneme was impeccably dressed in a three-piece black suit combined with a white shirt and even a white bowtie. His skin was not actually the tone of yellow she had the first impression of, but it was absurdly pale, as if he hadn't been in the sun for decades. He never left the house as far as Christine knew, so that made sense. He had a small smile on his face and his amber eyes seemed to take her in, making Christine feel self-conscious.

The knee-length pale green dress had been a graduation gift from Meg and Madame Giry for her first recital after finishing college: a recital both knew would never happen, but still wanted to be supportive.

The dress was sleeveless, with a round neckline, and there was a single layer of organza over the green satin, giving her an almost ethereal appearance. The embroidered bodice was fit and the skirt was a bit loose from the waist down. Christine loved the dress, but never found a proper occasion to wear it.

Until now.

"Good evening, Christine."

"Good evening."

"Shall we sit?", Mr. Sarneme motioned to the table.

His movements were swift and exuded confidence as he pulled out her chair, but his face betrayed him: he looked happy, but anxious, almost as if he expected her to flee at any moment.

When she was comfortable, her boss moved to his own chair, yet instead of sitting down he took her plate and went to serve her the salad.

"No, Mr. Sarneme, please, let me, I'm the m…", Christine made to stand up and take her plate from his hand, but he motioned her to stop. She noticed the ring on his little finger.

"Tonight, you are my guest, Christine. Do not worry. Salad?"

"Yes, please. Thank you."

After serving her and himself a satisfying amount of salad, Mr. Sarneme opened the champagne and poured it into the two flutes.

"A Christmas toast?", he offered after sitting down. In response, Christine lifted her glass and clinked it with his.

"Merry Christmas, Christine."

"Merry Christmas, Mr. Sarneme."

"Just Erik. Please."

"Merry Christmas, Erik", she conceded with a smile.


	7. Chapter 7

The salad was delicious, not that Christine was surprised.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Erik decided to make conversation.

"How do you like living here, Christine?"

"It's amazing. I love having everyone around… It's like a family. Everyone is so kind and connected to each other."

"It makes me glad to know that."

"We are all very grateful to you, sir. Not only for giving us a job, but also a home and a family. It's more than many of us have ever had."

"Good. That was my intention from day one. Not the gratitude, of course, even though it's a nice bonus, but to give people, some of them at least, a chance to have a family. It might not be a traditional one, but…"

"It's more than most of us would have otherwise, I assure you", Christine put her right hand on his left arm as a gesture of gratitude and reassurance, and even though he managed to disguise it, she could see Erik was shocked. What had happened to this man?

Trying not to disturb him any further, she gave his arm a small squeeze, as if saying "thank you", and removed her hand.

It wasn't until she was halfway through her piece of turkey that he decided to speak again.

"If you don't mind me asking… What brought you here?"

Christine swallowed, trying to think of a way to both answer his question truthfully and not put her heart through much pain.

Misinterpreting her silence, Erik looked thoroughly abashed.

"My apologies, it's none of my business, of course… I was merely curious."

"No, it's fine. I was just… Never mind. Well, Madame Giry brought me to work here. Her daughter, Meg, is my best friend."

"I am aware, but why _here_? You are young, surely you could have taken another position anywhere. You said Meg is your friend, she's a dancer, isn't she?", Christine nodded. "The arts hold no interest to you, I suppose?"

There was no easy way out of this conversation, was there?

"No, they do! Of course they do. I did… I got a Music degree in college", Christine choked out, fighting her tears as best as she could.

Erik nodded, seemingly interested, and Christine took a deep breath. _You can do this._

"My father, Gustave Daaé, he was a violinist."

"Yes, I have attended a few recitals in which he played."

"You did?"

Erik hummed in agreement.

Such a small world. She must have never noticed him, Christine presumed. Being a very imaginative child, she didn't think she would forget a man in a white half-mask.

When his silence signaled he was satisfied with her answers, Christine thought the polite thing to do was return the question.

"How about you? What do you work with? If you don't mind me asking, of course", she quickly added.

"I have done many things throughout my life, but at this moment I am an architect. I design projects, mostly, so I am able to work from home."

Well, that explained a lot.

"That's nice."

"Indeed. I have a partnership with an engineering firm and they do all the hard work, putting buildings up, visiting sites and all of that."

"What kind of buildings?"

"Mostly office buildings. The more modern it is, the better they like it nowadays."

"I bet", Christine gave a small laugh. "Did you design this house, too?", she looked around in wonderment.

"No. I did help restore some parts of it, but this… This was my family's home", Erik's eyes softened.

_Delicate subject, Christine. Think of something else._

The girl desperately realized she could not think of anything. She was dying to know more about her boss's family, but didn't want to risk having him ask about her father in return.

"How long have you and Meg been friends?"

_Thank God._

"Oh, since childhood! We met at school and took singing and dance lessons together as well. Joined by the hip, as they say."

"Didn't you think about pursuing a career as a ballerina?"

"I did! I had a pretty good technique and I loved dancing, still do actually, but… I felt like something was missing."

"So you turned to Music instead."

Christine shrugged.

"People say it's in my blood."

"I'm sure it is", Erik smiled. "Your father was a gifted musician."

Damn.

"Thank you", Christine whispered. _Please, drop it, please, drop it, please, please…_

Their empty plates seemed to catch Erik's attention at that moment.

"So, dessert?"

"Yes, please!", Christine grinned.

"I made two options, I didn't know what you liked best… We have strawberry cheesecake and mudcake with vanilla ice cream."

Christine couldn't help the huge smile that spread over her face.

"You look like a child that just walked into a candy store. So, which one?"

The girl shifted awkwardly in her seat, feeling heat creep up her cheeks. Did she really need to pick one? She figured he would think her impolite if she were to have a piece of each. That was a good thing about having her meals with the rest of the staff - no one judged.

"I… Uh… I… I like them both. I'll have the same as you", she nearly whispered.

"Oh, you wouldn't want that. I had too much to eat already. This time I'll pass."

Christine gave a small, sad smile. Why did everything have to taste so delicious? She knew whatever she picked, she would miss something amazing.

"You can have both if you want to. I will not judge", Erik promised, as if guessing her thoughts.

"I can?", Christine's face brightened up and Erik gave an amiable laugh.

"Both it is."

They made their way to the kitchen, put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and stored what was left of the food in the fridge. Erik then served Christine a piece of each dessert, as well as a ball of vanilla ice cream, like he had promised, and when they walked back into the dining room, Erik motioned for her to follow him.

"Come, let's sit by the fire."


	8. Chapter 8

Christine settled on the left armchair, leaving the one closer to the Christmas tree for Erik.

"Please, make yourself comfortable. Would you like more champagne?"

"Yes, please", Christine replied shyly.

Erik walked back towards the dinner table and Christine snuggled into the chair, letting out a sigh. The fireplace was just warm enough to make the room comfortable and cozy, and if she could get her hands on a pillow she would definitely fall asleep in front of the fire.

Before her mind could go any further towards the possibility of a nap, Erik was back with their glasses. As he handed one to Christine, she noticed he had a strange look on his face - a good kind of strange. Something in his eyes made her insides flutter, and for a brief moment Christine considered how improper the whole situation was and the countless ways things could go wrong very fast, but the small smile on his face assured she was in no danger.

She sipped the champagne and continued eating her dessert before the ice cream melted. They spent several minutes only listening to the light cracks coming from the fire, enjoying each other's company, until Erik decided to make conversation again.

"You said you have a Music degree?", Christine gulped and nodded. "Is it for performing or teaching?"

"I… At first I had performing in mind but… Later on I guess I could switch to teaching… You know, once managers decide I'm too old for live singing", she gave a nervous, bitter laugh.

"Yes, this industry can be very… Ungrateful at times", he replied in a comprehensive tone. "You always need a backup plan."

_Great, now he believes you're a terrible singer who couldn't get a decent job and was so conceited she didn't even think about a reasonable second option._

_Still better than the truth._

"One would think the name Daaé and such inherited talent would make companies fight over an artist… But sometimes the comfort of mediocrity wins."

_Wait._

_What?_

"I… Don't think I understand."

"Christine, I've heard your voice, you know that. Even if you weren't actually singing at the time, it's evident you're a gifted artist, and given how great a violinist your father was, it is no surprise. With such talent in your family, people should want to hear you at least once."

"I…"

"If you wish, I could pull a few strings and get you an audition with the city company, I know the managers. It's not much but at least it will put you out there."

"I like it here", Christine said, desperate for him to drop the subject.

"I'm glad you do, but you worked hard and paid a lot of money for your degree, you're talented, it's not fair-"

"I don't want it!", Christine blurted out.

Erik blinked at her and then looked down.

"Of course. I shouldn't intervene. You're perfectly capable of getting these opportunities on your own. I didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't", Christine reached forward to take Erik's hand, which led him to look back at her. "It is alright and I'm very grateful for your offer. Thank you. It's just that… I haven't felt like singing for some time now. One day I might come back to it, just not now."

"I'm sorry. I should not have-"

"It's fine. You didn't know."

"Haven't you considered working backstage? Stage managing or something like that? It's not actual performing, but it's still art-related and I'm positive it's far more fun than cleaning my floor", Erik tried.

"Did I do anything wrong?"

"What? No!"

"Then why is it that you're so desperate for me to leave? I said I like it here! I know I have a lot to improve still but I thought it was at least acceptable?"

Christine did not know what made her feel so upset.

"Oh my God, no! No, Christine that's not it, that's not it at all. I just… It's such a waste that people like you are stuck doing dishes while others who sound like toads are out there screeching on stage and making millions of dollars a month!", Erik exclaimed.

Christine remained silent. Erik sighed, and when he spoke again his voice was calmer.

"You love art. So much that you went to college for it. It doesn't seem fair that you force yourself to stay away from something that is so important to you. I was just trying to encourage you."

Christine looked down at the plate on her lap. Why did everything have to be so complicated?

"I don't think I can do anything related to art, to music, right now. It feels like the light simply… Faded. And I don't think I have the strength to light it up again."

It was Erik's turn to remain quiet. So she was indeed hiding. The conversation he had with Madame Giry a few days prior came back to his mind. Much as the man loathed to admit it, his governess was right. _These walls were not built to serve as a hiding place_, he had said, but wasn't he a fugitive himself? Wasn't he permanently seeking to hide from inquisitive stares, inconvenient questions, from people's disdain?

He did not know what Christine was hiding or running from, but could he turn his back on her when she was so terribly hurt?

"My apologies, Christine. I overstepped a line. As long as you want to stay here, I'll be more than glad to have you. If you ever change your mind, I will give you full support in whatever way I can if you so desire."

Erik's response caught her by surprise. People usually tried to push her back into singing no matter what, always under the guise of "but your father…", "but you're so talented!", "you're such a great singer!", which was why she usually avoided the subject. It simply hurt too much and people didn't seem to understand, or thought facing it was the only way to heal.

Christine vaguely wondered why her boss's understanding of her situation was so different from other people, but quickly silenced those thoughts. He had respected her privacy; she owed him the same courtesy.

As a remark of his respect for her feelings, Erik then switched subjects to things more appropriate for two people who were just getting to know each other on Christmas Eve. They spoke about the best things of the city, their favorite movies, books and TV shows - surprisingly, they had a lot in common.

Both felt very much at ease in each other's presence and neither of them wanted the night to end, though they wouldn't admit it out loud. However, Erik noticed the combined effects of dessert and champagne had bested Christine, whose eyes had begun to droop no matter how hard she fought it, and decided to escort the girl to her room.

"Goodnight, Christine", he gave a small bow.

"Goodnight, Erik."

They could not fight the smiles that spread over their faces.

Christmas Eve had been good.


	9. Chapter 9

He had no idea what he was doing, or why he was doing it.

All he knew was she had caught his attention in the kitchen and he couldn't shake it off.

Maybe it was the fact that she didn't stare. She didn't ask uncomfortable questions, even though Erik was positive she had a ton of them. She didn't gossip, either, or he would have heard from Madame Giry by now.

Maybe it was the fact that she dutifully and almost desperately respected all the lines he had drawn - if he hadn't seen her a few days earlier walking back into the house he would have thought she had found somewhere else to be on Christmas.

Of course he would never actually fire her, or anyone for that matter, should their paths ever cross during these days. It was Christmas, he wasn't an insensitive monster, but no one needed to know that. His employees knew better than to go against his rules and it should remain that way.

Whatever it was that caught his attention, it also gave him a new sense of being. He didn't need to hide from her, didn't need to fear her curiosity, at least not for now, and he wanted to enjoy it while it lasted. A lifetime of hiding sometimes took its toll, so it felt good to finally relax, even if for a short moment.

People had told him before he never did anything halfway. Erik wasn't sure they meant it as a compliment, but now he took it as one, for it was quite helpful at the moment.

He knew Christine had been impressed on Christmas Eve and that made him proud. He had done his best to please her - though _why_ he had wanted so bad to please her was still a mystery.

Sure, they were both alone and it was Christmas, but that did not mean he needed to put in that much effort; a simpler dinner would have fulfilled its purpose the same way and be equally tasteful. Maybe even better for Christine.

He had felt her unease at times and did his best to mitigate it, though he wished it had not been there in the first place.

Still, Erik considered Christmas Eve a success. They had had a lovely time, spent the night talking about many different things: deep, personal matters, but also light, pleasant subjects that better suited their situation, two people who were just getting to know each other. He had noticed her smile when they bid each other goodnight and knew he was smiling too.

A success, indeed.

That same humming that had beckoned him to Christine a few days ago withdrew him from his thoughts. This time, however, something was different.

The tune she picked now seemed… Joyful. Very different from the one he had heard the other night. Both were beautiful, but days earlier there was a palpable amount of grief. This time, however…

It was cliché, but it made him think of laying down on the grass under the shadow of a large tree on a sunny day, the birds chirping, a cool breeze on his face making the temperature just perfect. He could almost smell flowers.

Erik sighed. He had never experienced that in his real life; how could he know?

That, he knew, was the power of music. The power of art. When it came from deep within your soul, it could reach out to other people and take them wherever you wanted to.

Not many people had that ability nowadays.

He had to restrain himself from going after Christine again.

_Give her some space, Erik. Slow and steady or you will scare her off._

Erik took a deep breath. He knew better than to get too invested in anything. It had never worked for him in the long term. Sooner or later, being a man in a mask ruined everything: people got too curious about what was beneath it, some had even tried to snatch it off, leaving him no choice other than to remove himself from the situation.

More than once, it had taken a toll on the people he had lived with, too. Not his real parents, who had loved him more than life itself, but died at a very early age. But as a small child, he was forced to move from foster home to foster home. Families claimed it was for his own safety, but he knew the truth: nobody could stand the stares and whispers for too long.

Erik couldn't blame them. Foster parents hadn't seen stomachs grow, hadn't felt him move. They hadn't lived through 40 weeks of expectations, hadn't seen his first steps, hadn't heard the first time he said "mama". He was just another kid. Another name, another face, though he doubted his face was even close to "common".

It had come to a point, however, where he was simply left alone at an orphanage. Authorities seemed to have decided he was no longer too dependent on adults and could live with dozens of other children with only two or three adults to take care of them all. Of course that didn't go well either. The other children were afraid of him because of his face, so either they left him alone and isolated or used him as a punching bag.

Once he was old enough to go back to his parents' house, he never looked back.

Even when he was on his own, here he was never truly lonely. In this house, he always felt surrounded by love and by the memory of his parents.

For a long time, he had feared being taken back to orphanages or foster homes, not comprehending fully how things worked back then. When it became clear that he was finally safe, he knew he wanted to give other people the same opportunity of experimenting love and family as he had before his parents passed.

When Madame Giry showed at his doorstep asking for help, he knew exactly how he was going to turn his plans into action.

A rather large budget and very specific conditions later, he had his crew, his very own group of misfits. Now these people had a safe haven, something to come back to, a place to call home. Even when some of them parted and moved on, the bonds created here were unbreakable.

Christine's voice brought him back to the present, and Erik knew what he must do.

He sat down by the piano, grabbed a pen and paper and started writing down the notes that filled his head.


End file.
